


blue clear sky

by sharkfish



Series: kissing strangers [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Castiel's First Time With A Man, First Dates, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gay Revelation (no panic), Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 06:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: Cas remembers dicks he didn’t really look at in the showers at the fitness center. Remembers dicks in porn, remembers dicks in classic art at the museum. Remembers claiming a general fascination with the human form.





	blue clear sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsgoneby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsgoneby/gifts).



> thanks to: the people who requested a part 2 in the comments and [dreamsgonebye](http://dreamsgonebye.tumblr.com) for planting a seed, [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com), and [destielsangel](http://destielsangel.tumblr.com) for also doing a read through for me :)
> 
> when this went the direction it accidentally went, it occurred to me that i'm not sure i've ever read a story that reflected my actual real-life Queer Revelation, and maybe i should've written one 400k ago.

Cas thinks about it a lot.

Three of the six people he kissed at the line-up were men. He liked it more than expected with all of them, but it didn’t feel like a revelation. When Dean kissed him, he suddenly realized what he’s been missing, what all those romance movies and novels were talking about, the kind of kiss that makes you go weak in your knees.

Maybe it was the blindfold that made him hyper-aware of everything, the way each of the kissers smelled and tasted and touched, but Dean hit him especially hard. He smelled wind-blown and sun-warmed. Most of them hadn’t touched Cas much, but Dean put his hand on his Cas’s face, his fingertips  brushing along the edge of his ear, and kissed him so gently at first. He tasted like a hint of cinnamon toothpaste, and he went willingly when Cas pulled him closer. It was the kind of kiss Cas didn’t want to end.

Of course Dean was beautiful. Of course he was the highest scored for three out of his six kisses. Of course Stiles flirted shamelessly — the way Cas wouldn’t know how to — and Cas stopped listening when he heard Stiles say, “Me and Derek have been wanting to try a threesome.”

But Dean broke away from Stiles to chase Cas into the sidewalk. Later, Cas texts Hannah.

 **Cas:** Don’t panic; it’s nothing bad. I would like to have dinner tonight if you’re available.

 **Hannah:** Sure, if you’re buying.

 

Hannah is late as usual, and their hair is teal today, and they kiss Cas on the top of his head before taking a seat. “No one’s dying, right?”

“Not that I know of,” Cas says, and before Hannah can ask: “I did the kissing project for your friend.”

“How was it?”

Cas sips his drink, considering. “Not bad, but I have a question. How did you know you were queer?”

“Ooh, you kissed boys.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You knew I was going to.”

“Yeah, and I was pretty sure you would like it.” Hannah waves down the servier and smiles overly-sweet when the waitress can’t figure out if she should call them _sir_ or _ma’am_ before turning back to Cas. “I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s complicated being trans, too. I remember how hard I tried not to look at girls in the locker room in middle school.”

Cas has a visceral memory of seventh grade gym. By the end of first semester everyone had moved on to a new target for their cruelty, but he knew it was only because he’d learned to keep his eyes straight ahead, pretty much all the time. Remembers being a certain kind of nervous when he made his first real friend in high school, and then anxious and sad in another way when that boy started dating a girl Cas knows from Facebook he would later marry. Remembers his roommate the first year of college, a boy whose smile made something burn in Cas’s stomach.

“I know we don’t talk about her,” Hannah says, “but you liked Daphne.”

“I…” Things ended badly with Daphne. She liked him for his paycheck, not for him. He wasn’t sad when she was gone. “I’m not sure anymore.”

“Hael?”

“I enjoyed her.”

“Did you like sex with her?”

“She wanted to take it slow,” Cas says, and remembers being ok with that because sex seemed like a lot of effort anyway. “But it was fine.”

“Pamela? She went full political lesbian, by the way.”

“She told me. Invited me to her ‘love ceremony’ or whatever they are calling their wedding.”

“The sex?”

Cas tilts his head. “It was fine. I enjoyed it.”

Cas remembers moments disappearing into a shapeless fantasy even while he was inside her. Remembers identifying himself as an ass man because he didn’t understand what was so great about breasts. Remembers Timmy Riggins, remembers his mouth and his hair and _Texas forever._ Remembers Malcolm Reynolds before that, remembers thinking _Trash_ was a gift. Remembers the guy in Sales who had Cas stammering his first week at Google, a guy he doesn’t talk to anymore because he just makes a fool of himself every time. That guy is tall and broad-shouldered but his eyes aren’t as bright as Dean’s.

Hannah arches an eyebrow and Cas says, “There was a specific guy at the kissing thing.”

“Oh?”

“He was my high score. I knew he was a man when he kissed me, and he was still my high score.” Cas takes a long drink. “He wants to see me again.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want to lead him on. Maybe it was nothing.”

“Maybe it was something.”

Cas is done talking about it and knows the best way to distract her. “How’s Row?”

 

Cas spends two more days thinking.

He spends two days inspecting every person who walks by his desk, trying to decide if he’s attracted to them or not. Two days remembering: a vague confusion when boys talked about girls as a kid. Nothing to say when other guys got graphic about women they’d slept with. A disinterest in dating he always thought was due to lack of time. The way he felt to receive Dean’s shy smile.

He texts Dean, and four days later he’s knocking on Dean’s door with a bottle of wine in one hand.

“You’re early,” Dean says, smiling, when he pulls open the door.

Cas glances down at his phone. “Oh, I’m — sorry.”

“It’s fine, but don’t make fun of my hair. You interrupted before I got to it.”

Dean’s hair looks soft and Cas wants his hands in it. “I brought wine,” he says, trying not to stare.

“Cool, come on in.”

Dean is wearing black socks and worn-soft jeans and worn-softer t-shirt. Cas’s eyes catch on Dean’s forearms, his biceps, and Cas is starting to wonder how he had ever been convinced he was straight.

“I don’t know much about wine,” Dean says as Cas trails behind him into the kitchen. “Is this supposed to be room temperature?”

“Yes,” Cas says.

“You said lasagna is ok, right?”

Cas did say so, and he doesn’t think Dean has actually forgotten, but he’s fiddling with a dishtowel when he says it and it occurs to Cas, with surprise, that Dean might be nervous. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Dean pulls out two glasses — there’s nothing made for wine in his cabinet — and sets them on the counter, blushing. “I don’t know anything about wine, so. Yeah. You should pour.”

“Do you have a corkscrew?”

“Oh, yeah, duh.”

It takes Dean a minute to dig it out, and then Cas is opening the wine bottle, standing closer to Dean than he meant to against the counter, and then Dean is trying to hide his sour face at the first sip of wine and Cas is laughing.

“Oh, man. Fuck, I tried,” Dean says, laughing along, a beautiful moment. “You caught me, asshole. Wine is not my favorite.”

“If wine isn’t your favorite, what do you drink?”

“Beer and Jack, mostly.”

“Do you have either of those?”

“Well, yeah. Some of that Shiner IPA.”

Cas sets his glass of wine down. “I would like one, please.”

“You’re really cu—” Dean says, then cuts himself off, turning to grab beers out of the fridge. “Food needs more time, want to start the movie?”

Dean whisked Cas off to his kitchen so fast, Cas didn’t get a good look at the living area when he came in, but he takes it in now: bookshelf stuffed to the brim, a stack of overflow next to it; too many dvds in the shelves under his tv; colorful abstract art, textured originals; couch worn but comfortable; Chromebook on a scuffed coffee table.

“That’s the one we give Google employees,” Cas says.

“Hm?” Dean says, poking around at his dvd shelf.

“I work at Google.”

“Seriously?” Dean turns to face Cas, looking at the computer like it might know the answer, then back up at him.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Dean says, eyes skittering away. “Wow, that’s cool.”

“I know how that sounds,” Cas says, carefully. “But it’s nothing particularly special. There are hundreds of people in my position.”

“I do, um. Car restorations, mostly.”

“That’s why you were so quick to insult my car.”

That makes Dean smile, and Cas’s hands tingle with the warmth of it. “I’ll show you mine later. You’ll be jealous.”

“We’ll see,” Cas says, and from the way Dean’s smile grows, he thinks it even comes off as flirtatious.

“Stop distracting me,” Dean says, and the idea that Cas might be a distraction to someone as handsome as Dean has his stomach tingling, too. Even as late as knocking on the door, Cas wasn’t sure what he wanted out of this encounter, but it suddenly seems clear. He wants Dean to kiss him. He wants _more_.

Dean grabs the controller and drops down next to Cas on the couch. He doesn’t sit close but he doesn’t sit far, either. He sits like he’s not aware of how much space is between them either way. Cas can’t think about anything else.

Dean likes to talk, and Cas likes to listen, doing his best to respond intelligently. He must be doing ok because Dean keeps smiling. Cas looks a little too long at Dean’s ass when he gets up to pull food out of the oven.

“This is really good,” Cas says, watching Dean slurp cheese off his fork with a completely lack of elegance.

The light is dim but he thinks Dean blushes. “Glad you like it. Glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

They argue through the rest of _A New Hope_ — Dean is especially horrified when Cas suggests, just to rile him up, that they should’ve started with _A Phantom Menace_ — and are on their third beers, somewhere near the end of _Empire,_ when Cas realizes he and Dean haven’t looked at the screen in so long he’s not even sure what’s happening.

“Dean,” Cas says, and something in his tone makes Dean go quiet, eyes wide and nervous. “I’d like a second kiss now.”

Dean doesn’t move. “You sure?”

“Very.”

Dean is slow like he thinks Cas might spook, and Cas watches him in the flickering light of the tv the whole way as he gets closer. He wasn’t able to see this last time, the pink of Dean’s mouth, the length of his eyelashes, the flush of his cheeks. No woman has ever made Cas’s stomach flutter.

Dean’s lips — his kisses — are so soft, a stark contrast to the scrape of his stubble, the calloused pads of his fingers on Cas’s cheek. Cas gasps and Dean hums quietly against his mouth. “You ok?”

“Yes,” Cas breathes, and takes the next kiss from Dean, a little rougher with his hand in Dean’s hair.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says, and after a scramble of limbs between hot kisses, Cas is laid out on the couch with Dean between his legs.

Dean rolls his hips down and now Cas can feel how he’s getting hard in his jeans, tries to pull him even closer, but Dean jerks back, sitting on his heels with hands raised. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve — that was too fast. I’m sorry.”

Cas blinks. “Was I not participating appropriately?”

“Uh, you were, trust me. I just — don’t want to pressure you.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m an adult, and I’d like to keep kissing you.”

Dean laughs, and this time when he reaches for Cas, his hands slide underneath Cas’s shirt to his ribs, and he lets Cas determine the urgency of the kisses — very urgent — and lets Cas pull his shirt off, but pulls back again when Cas thumbs curiously across one of his nipples. “I know you’re an adult,” Dean says, “but I just really don’t want to do something you’ll regret later.”

“I’m not going to regret it,” Cas says. “I was confused when you kissed me the first time. I’m not anymore.”

Cas remembers a boy he knew in his Master’s program who was sweet on him, remembers getting a text in the middle of the night saying _I want to suck your dick._ Remembers turning his phone on silent and going back to bed, but waking up in the morning with dreams of that boy’s clever mouth still fuzzy in his mind. Remembers telling him, _You’re fine, don’t worry about it,  but I’m straight._ Remembers being a bit forlorn when the boy stopped talking to him, remembers how embarrassed the boy was at his misinterpretation. Remembers his own embarrassment at somehow hurting this sweet boy’s feelings.

“Tell me if you change your mind,” Dean says, but steals Cas’s breath and his answer with slow, wet kisses down Cas’s neck, the scratch of Dean’s cheek raising goosebumps.

Cas sits up when Dean tugs at his shirt and they get him out of his together, and then Dean presses him back into the couch and kisses down the center of his chest, hands wrapped around his hips now, guiding him to press them together in a rough friction that’s not nearly enough. “Dean,” Cas gasps.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Dean says against Cas’s skin. “Jesus Christ — just hearing your voice. Please, can I take you to bed?”

“Is it bigger than the couch? I never thought about how small one would feel with two men.”

Dean laughs, forehead pressed into Cas’s stomach. “You’re kind of a dork. Come on.”

Cas never took an anatomy class, so he doesn’t know the name of the muscles in Dean’s upper back that draw his gaze. He likes them more in their namelessness, outside his ability to categorize, just admire, and before Dean can face him in the bedroom, Cas presses against Dean’s back, kissing along the top of his shoulder.

Dean leans backwards into Cas’s arms, turning his head so Cas can see his smile. “You want to just spoon me or are you gonna let me suck your cock?”

Cas blanks out for a second, mouth still pressed to the side of Dean’s neck. He imagined a lot of things in the last week, between their first kiss and their second, wondered about the line of hair he’d find on Dean’s stomach, if it would be soft under his fingers. Wondered about the exact thing that just happened on the couch, making out, feeling Dean get hard through too many layers of clothing. Wondered what Dean’s mouth would feel like around his cock, how pretty his mouth would be red and swollen. Wondered and wanted more.

“I’ll allow it,” Cas says, and Dean spins Cas around with a grin, shoving him towards the bed.

“Don’t be so snarky or I’ll withdraw my offer.”

Cas wasn’t sure what kind of underwear he was supposed to wear to a possible gay date, but it doesn’t matter because Dean pulls them off along with his jeans, tosses them and then Cas’s socks in vaguely the same direction. “Jesus,” Dean whispers, eyes on Cas’s cock as it’s revealed, and then he surges up for a kiss. He nips at Cas’s bottom lip and says, “I hope every woman you’ve been with told you how amazing you are.”

“Not really,” Cas says, suddenly aware of who he’s in bed with. The way Dean could have anyone he wanted. The way Dean’s smooth voice could sweet-talk men and women and everyone else.

“Hey,” Dean says, sitting up on an elbow to look at Cas. “You just got all tense. Talk to me.”

“You’re very beautiful,” Cas says.

Dean furrows his brow. “Thanks?”

“I’m not.”

Dean’s frown deepens. “What? Who told you that?”

“I know that I don’t interest people generally.”

“Dude,” Dean says. “You think I’m doing this for charity?”

“I suppose,” Cas says slowly, “that doesn’t make a lot of sense.”  

Dean kisses his cheek, stays close enough for Cas to feel his breath. “No sense at all. You’re hot as fuck. Don’t argue.”

“Ok,” Cas says, and shivers when Dean’s touch dances down his side.

“Was that good or are you ticklish?” Dean says, smiling.

“A little bit of both.”

“K, I’ll be careful.”

Dean teases and taunts Cas’s nipples with his lips and tongue and teeth, keeping his lower half far enough away that Cas’s efforts to rub himself against Dean’s jeans are fruitless. Cas clenches a hand in Dean’s hair, whimpers his name when Dean finally starts to kiss lower.

“Are you going to —” Cas says, out of breath, skin lighting up at the touch of Dean’s mouth. “Are you going to take off your pants?”

“Hmm,” Dean says, biting at one of Cas’s hip bones. “You want me to?”

“Let me see you. I’ve been thinking about it for days.”

Cas wondered how big Dean’s cock is, if it would feel any different than his own in his hand. Wondered what it feels like to be fucked, or to fuck, Dean hard and wet between them.

“Days, huh?”

Dean backs off the bed to push off his jeans and Cas misses him for just the moment before Dean’s naked and then he’s too busy staring.

Cas remembers dicks he didn’t really look at in the showers at the fitness center. Remembers dicks in porn, remembers dicks in classic art at the museum. Remembers claiming a general fascination with the human form.

And yes, fascination is part of it, why he can’t take his eyes off of Dean, because he’s allowed to look this time, because Dean’s body is so different than his own and makes his mouth water and cock throb, but deeper than that is a blue fire of wanting, a sort he’s never known.

When Cas looks up, Dean is grinning, but there’s something a little unsure behind it. “I’m not sure what to say,” Cas says. “I want you so badly.”

Dean laughs, joyful and lovely, and leans close for a kiss, chaster than Cas would expect considering their state of nudity and arousal. “Well, here I am.”

Dean’s trail of kisses back down Cas’s body is faster this time, but he still pauses when he reaches Cas’s cock, just breathing against the exposed head. Cas squirms, clenching Dean’s shoulder. Dean gives a dark little laugh and and gives the head of Cas’s dick a slow, wet, tongue-filled kiss. “Relax,” Dean murmurs when Cas’s hips jump upwards. “We can do that later.”

“Do — do what?” Cas says, his other hand now in Dean’s hair. It’s probably rude to pull but he can’t help it, not when Dean is so close to where he wants him.

“Fuck my mouth.”

“Oh god,” Cas says, knees tightening around Dean’s shoulders.

Yesterday he wondered about it, almost distantly, because he wasn’t sure if that’s just the kind of thing that happens in porn but not real life. Dean says it like a filthy promise.

Dean licks up the underside of Cas’s cock, taking his time before sucking the head into his mouth. “Dean,” Cas groans, and again when Dean starts to stroke him at the same time.

Cas remembers his first blow job. It seemed like he was the last virgin alive by the time it happened. When Hannah asked how things were with him and Hael, he said it was fine. And it was fine, all the way through undergrad, until Hael decided to go abroad while he went south. _You may all go to hell_ and all.

This is not fine. This — this moment with no sound but him and Dean and the muffled traffic outside — is ecstasy. Earlier Cas thought Dean keeps his house cold, but now he’s burning hot and sweating.

Dean pulls off Cas’s cock with a dirty pop and licks down to his balls, teasing until he knows what pulls the strongest reaction out of Cas and then exploiting it, and Cas can’t take his eyes off of him, especially when Dean meanders back up to take Cas’s cock into his mouth again. Cas’s hips twitch and Dean just takes it, his gaze focused upwards on Cas’s.

“You —” Cas says, but is lost, unable to catch his breath or his thoughts.

Cas comes without quite realizing it was about to happen, and just before the first swallow around the head of his cock, it occurs to him that Dean has been playing him with his mouth for a long time, but it never felt perfunctory so Cas didn’t notice the time passing. He wonders if it was impolite to let it go on so long, but then Dean is resting his temple against the inside of Cas’s knee, panting and smiling, and Cas stops wondering anything.

“Was that good?” Dean says, again that cocky grin with something bashful lurking just behind it.

Cas lets out a slow breath, trying to reclaim his scattered brain cells. “I’d give it a ten.”

Dean laughs as he climbs out from between Cas’s legs, laying down next to him. “Thanks, baby.”

Cas wants to be closer. He wants to touch Dean between them, wants to know what Dean feels like skin-to-skin in his arms. He’s not sure if Dean’s the kind of man who would welcome something that could be described as cuddling and he’s not sure how to ask, he’s not sure how he’s supposed to reciprocate, but then Dean says, “Come here?” in a shy question and Cas turns into his arms, nose to nose.

Dean is hard enough against Cas’s stomach that it must be aching, but he stops Cas as he’s reaching between them. “You don’t have to.”

Cas kisses Dean, tries for a hot kiss like the first one, succeeds if the way Dean clutches at his hip is anything to go by. “I want to.”

“Hang on,” Dean says, twisting to dig through a drawer and coming out with a bottle of lube. “I’m sure you noticed I’m cut, so lube is good.”

Cas isn’t entirely sure why, but Dean’s smile makes him smile, and he’s never been so thrilled at the idea of touching someone before and he’s not embarrassed at how quickly he has his slick hand around Dean’s cock. Dean shudders like he’s wanted Cas touching him as long as Cas has wanted to. He kisses Cas like he needs him.

Cas has never touched a dick other than his own, and and he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, especially with the distraction of Dean’s lips and tongue. “You’re a natural,” Dean says, wrapping his hand around Cas’s, tightening his grip, and the way Dean feels, heavy and hot, the noises he makes deep in his throat, the whispered encouragements into their kisses — _yeah, Cas, just like that, that feels good —_ buzz all over his skin.

“Fuck, baby,” Dean says, panting against Cas’s mouth when he comes.

Dean gives Cas a soft kiss once it shakes through him, and when their eyes meet, Dean’s are bright and he’s smiling. Cas smiles back, helplessly, and tries to cover it up by saying, “This is very messy.”

Dean laughs, loud and with his head tipped back, and grabs Cas’s dirty hand to rub it up his stomach. “Hope you’re not a germaphobe.”

Cas sighs, overly dramatic. “I guess I’ll deal with it.”

“I don’t think we’re both getting in there, but I do have a shower.”

“Shower sex is complicated anyway.”

“Amen,” Dean says, grinning. “I’ll let you go first. Towels under the sink.”

Dean’s bathroom is like the living room, clean despite being a bit cluttered. Deodorant, shaving cream and razor, bottle of OTC allergy pills, electric toothbrush and cinnamon toothpaste on the counter. Dean’s shampoo is nice and there’s fancy face wash Cas wouldn’t have expected he owns. His towels are navy.

Cas hopes Dean’s water heater is in good shape because he spends longer than he should in the shower. He thinks about Dean, the way he felt when they kissed — the first and second and 64th time — and the way his smile lit Cas up somewhere in the left side of his chest and the way Cas had never been so happy to be in someone’s bed before. He thinks about Dean flirting and laughing. He thinks about the other men he’s known, men he thought he admired only professionally, for their mastery of skill, and boys with blonde curls who sat across the aisle from him in a musty basement health class. He thinks about the things he always thought he _should_ be thinking about when he jerks off. He thinks, again, about Dean’s smile.

Out of the shower, skin red and a towel wrapped around his waist, Cas finds Dean sitting in his bed, fiddling with his phone. There are two beers on the bedside table. Dean looks up, a smile spreading across his face, and pulls Cas close by the hips to kiss his stomach.

“I’ll be quick,” Dean says. “Sit and enjoy your beer. No clothes.”

Cas waits. His phone is still in the living room, so he just rests against the headboard, sipping absently while he wonders what Dean might be thinking about in the shower. If he’s thinking about how to tell Cas _it was fun, I’ll text you later._ If he’s thinking — Cas hopes — about getting close to Cas again.

Dean comes out completely nude, damp and flushed, rubbing a towel through his hair, and Cas stops breathing.

“Are you trying to figure out how to skip out?” Dean says. “I won’t be weird about it.”

“Oh,” Cas says, forcing himself to swallow. “I — yes, I’ll go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Dean says, hand suddenly on Cas’s shoulder. “I want you to stay. But I’m not trying to trap you here.”

“I want to stay.”

“K. Good.” Dean drops his towel and tugs at the one still wrapped around Cas’s waist. “Is there a reason you’re still hiding under this?”

Cas lifts his hips so Dean can pull the towel out from under him, and Dean whistles softly. “You really are ridiculously hot. Like, seriously. What is someone as hot as you and as smart as you doing in my bed?”

“Wondering if you’re going to kiss me again.”

Dean laughs and climbs into bed next to Cas, nuzzles close to kiss him. “When we get to round two,” Dean says, “you wanna fuck me?”

Cas’s heart pounds. “Yes.”

“Are you staying over?”

“If that’s an invitation, also yes.”

Dean turns to grab his phone. “So, this is stupid as hell, but can I take a picture of you? My friend thinks I made you up. Just your face. She’s a lesbian and doesn’t want to see a naked dude.”

“Ok,” Cas says, not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to.

Dean holds his phone out and takes a picture where he’s kissing Cas’s cheek. He’s blushing when he pulls away. “She’ll accuse me of just taking a picture off the internet.”

“Naturally,” Cas says.

Dean shows Cas the picture, and it makes Cas flush and smile. “Object now or forever hold your peace,” Dean says, thumb hovering over the _Send_ button.

“Go ahead.”

Dean sends it and then they get distracted kissing until Dean’s phone dings. It’s Cas that pulls away, saying, “Maybe it’s your friend.”

“Her name’s Charlie. She’s kinda, you know. My best friend.” Dean thumbs open his phone and holds it out for Cas to read.

 **Charlie:** He’s pretty cute, but if he hurts you I will hack his bank account and hire a hitman.

“I won’t,” Cas says, knowing he sounds more solemn than he meant to as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Dean sets his phone aside but doesn’t meet Cas’s eyes again. “I was serious about not really looking for casual right now. If you are, that’s fine, I’ll still make you pancakes in the morning, but — I want to try for something real once in my life.”

“I’m learning a lot of new things about myself,” Cas says, “but an interest in meaningless sex is not one of them.”

Dean grins. “Cool. Maybe I’ll get to make you pancakes some other mornings, too.”

“Can I ask — how did you know you like men?”

Dean scoots down to lay his head on Cas’s shoulder, turning his beer where it rests on his thigh with one hand and . “My dad knew, I guess. I dunno how you see something like that in a kid but — he did his best to make me something else.” Cas tightens his arm around Dean without consciously doing it. “But when I realized he was right, it was kind of like, ‘hey, fuck you, I’ll suck cock if I want.’”

Cas leans his head against Dean’s, waits since he doesn’t know what to say.

“Are you freaking out?”

“Not at all. I’m just wondering why someone didn’t tell me until now. Hannah was less than surprised.”

Dean snorts. “Hannah’s non-binary, right? They would definitely know.”

“How do I tell my parents?”

“However you want to. _If_ you want to. Do you think that’ll go well?”

“They tried very hard with Hannah. I think they’ll understand.”

Dean lifts his head to kiss along Cas’s jaw. “I’m really your gay awakening?”

Cas laughs. “Apparently you are.”

“Damn,” Dean says. “That must’ve been one helluva kiss.”

**Author's Note:**

> [reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548551)


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